


Ghosts With the Most

by harleygirl2648



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (i know what a SURPRISE), Beetlejuice AU, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, M/M, not sure why this isn't a popular AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9806672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648/pseuds/harleygirl2648
Summary: Beetlejuice AU. Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton are dead, and stuck in their house. Now that wouldn't be an issue if the worst family EVER hadn't just moved in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrschiltoncat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrschiltoncat/gifts).



> This is just crack, for my favorite crack ship. Because the Freds would be the most annoying ghosts ever, right?

“We’re very unhappy,” Freddie stated to Bella, their caseworker. Her husband, Frederick, nodded.

The woman rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette. “What did you expect, honey, you’re _dead._ Look, the rules are very clear on this point. Didn't you people read the manual?”

 _“These_ rules?” Frederick asked, incredulously, holding up their copy of the Handbook For the Recently Deceased, flipping through the pages without any rhyme or reason. “They read like stereo instructions, they’re worse than tax code.”

 “I’m very sorry,” Bella said, not looking sorry at all, taking a drag on her cigarette. “But rules are rules. You’re both staying in this house for one hundred and fifty years.”

“But that’s an eternity!” Freddie whined, gesturing around the place. “And we can’t even leave?”

“Oh honey, you’d been dead for less than a week when you called me up stating that you died yesterday and you’re confused. It’ll  _fly_  by.” 

“B-But-”

“Good luck to you both,” Bella nodded crisply, then taking a walk through the wall back to the waiting room.

Frederick sighed and sat back on the couch, gesturing over for Freddie to sit down beside him. She accepted the offer, curling up next to him and resting her head on his chest.

“What are we going to do, Fred?” she sighed, letting him play with her wild, red curls.

“I guess we just wait it out,” he sighed back. “I mean, if it’s already been a week, that means there’s only one hundred and forty-nine years and fifty-one weeks left.”

“Yeah. At least I’m stuck with you,” she grinned, punching him lightly in the arm. He let himself smile, and kiss her on the cheek.

“Told you we shouldn't drive out that late, it was icy.”

“Well, I think the damn stag that jumped out in front of me was what  really  put us in the ditch.”

Frederick smiled fully now. “I suppose so. And who knows...maybe this  is  heaven.”

She pinched him on the shoulder, laughing. “In heaven you wouldn’t live in an unfinished house.”

 

 

However, one month later, something truly awful happened. More like _three_ some _ones_  happened.

The day had started uneventfully, they were sitting around, chatting about what they were going to do for the next century in the house when the they heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

Freddie and Frederick jumped up from the living room couch and raced for the stairs. They had almost made it to the top when the door swung open and they froze and stared down at the people who had so rudely burst into their house.

“We haven't gotten all of the previous owners’ belongings out yet,” the realtor said to the two well-dressed men in the doorway. “Terrible car crash, went right into the ditch. But that’s all behind us now, you made such a  _wonderful_  offer, doctor, we just had to accept.”

 The taller man nodded as looked around the living room and smiled. “Perfect, don’t you think, Will?”

 “Lovely, Hannibal,” the other man replied. “The decor is a little... _off_ , but we can fix that. And there is plenty of room for Abigail. It will do nicely.”

 Freddie could tell the realtor was less than enthused about this relationship, especially when Hannibal smiled and kissed Will on the cheek. He noticed as well.

“I already signed the papers, we’ll be moving in today.” 

“Great, pleasure doing business, doctor,” the realtor fake-smiled, turning and closing the door behind him as he left.

Will’s own fake smile dropped off as soon as he left. “You could have at least pretended like you weren’t thinking about killing him.”

“Force of habit, darling,” Hannibal replied, walking into the kitchen. Freddie and Frederick screwed down the stairs to peek around the corner.

“Beautiful kitchen, hardly used. A shame, really,” Hannibal remarked running his hand over the countertop. “Didn’t even have to clean the fridge after the funeral.”

“Hey, just because neither of us can cook doesn't mean we need to be made fun of. We’re dead, for fuck’s sake,” Freddie whispered harshly. Neither of the new owners seemed to hear her.

“Abigail’s bringing in her things now,” Will announced, looking out the window. Hannibal came over and looked as well, rubbing his fingers over the windowsill. 

“At least the previous owners were clean,” he said. Frederick would have made a comment out loud when the front door opened and a girl came inside, holding a giant cooler under one arm and a personal bag in the other.

 “Here are the leftovers, I can’t believe we didn’t just throw them out,” she said it Hannibal. He only smiled as he accepted the bag.

 “No sense in wasting things. We will be hunting on Friday, will you join us, Abigail?”

“I need to adjust to the third new home in fourth months,” she shot back. “I’ll take the room all the way across the house.”

 “Would cheesecake brighten your demeanor?” Hannibal asked, a small twinkle in his eye. Abigail rolled her eyes, but smiled and nodded regardless. “Excellent, dinner will be ready in two hours.”

 God, they all ate meat. Ew. Apparently ghosts can smell, both Freddie and Frederick realized. A lot of meat. Gross. Real cheesecake, too.

And there were at least four dogs in the house. On the furniture, shedding everywhere. One of them, apparently named Winston, started barking where Freddie and Frederick were crouching at the top of the staircase. Frederick tried to wave him away with a "shoo!" but the dog only barked louder.

 “What is it, boy?” Will asked, plying his favorite dog with a treat. “Is there something up there?”

“Yeah,” Abigail said sarcastically as she snuck an extra piece of cheesecake. “It’s the  ghosts  of the people who  died in this house  and they want us  out of here.”

“Don’t be morbid, dear,” Hannibal admonished lightly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

 

 

As if three new people in this house weren’t enough, it soon became clear that they were complete opposites.

Four days into the new house, they were gutting the place. They threw away half of the books in the study Frederick had never even bothered to read. Repainting the walls in a shade of crimson that was truly eerie. Hannibal’s drawings covered the walls, there were dogs everywhere.Their own pretentious furniture was moved in  (who the fuck plays the  _theremin?)_   Freddie took the initiatives and took most of their belongings and put them in the attic where she and Frederick were hiding out.

 "Snobby assholes, they threw out my shoe closet," Freddie whined, watching the two of them tear apart the communal office, tossing out copies of old articles and making comments about absolutely everything. "They called my shoes tacky. _Tacky,_ Fred. Hannibal wears plaid suits, what does he know about style?"

Frederick sighed."Fred, relax. They just have different tastes than us, I'm sure we can live-"

"Oh, amateur psychiatry. Adorable," Hannibal remarked, flipping through Frederick's old case notes that he found in the desk. "No wonder he was never published."

Freddie turned to her husband with a smirk. "Still holding true to that statement, sweetie?"

"Fine, yes, you're right, we need to get them all out of our house."

She grinned, kissing his cheek. “We’ll have to _scare_  them out, then, Fred.”

Will and Hannibal were unlocking a hall closet, and when they pulled the door open, Freddie was hanging inside of it. She pulled hard and tore her face right off, eyes bulging in their sockets as she screamed bloody murder.

“Oh, look,” Will said as he pulled out a wedding dress and and tuxedo, pushing the other empty hangers along with Freddie aside. He didn’t even fucking see her. A wedding photo was pinned to the dress. “Lucy and Ricky, how cute.”

Hannibal laughed as they tossed the clothes aside, Freddie pouting from her noose. Frederick had to open the door for her after they left.

“Sorry, darling, thought that would work.”

“Get me down, asshole. they couldn't see you either."

 

“I thought the realtor was coming for dinner tonight,” Freddie stayed, sitting in the chair next to Will, snapping her fingers in front of his face for her enjoyment. Frederick rolled his eyes.

“He can’t see you, why do you keep doing that?”

“Because it makes me feel better, _sweetie,”_  she shot back. “And what’s your point, the fucking realtor is the least of my concerns.”

“Hannibal will spend literally hours prepping for dinner when it’s just the three of them, what about a guest? They haven’t done anything except work in the basement.”

Freddie only shrugged, find satisfaction in standing up and yanking the window open instead. Will sighed and stood up from his chair, going over to said window.

“We really must get these windows checked,” he called over to his husband. “Oh, and it looks like our guest is here.”

Hannibal stood up to join Will to go outside and greet the realtor.

Curious, Freddie and Frederick crowded around the window to see what was going on. They could see the realtor getting out of his car, speaking words to the couple as they made their way inside the house. The man was happily chattering away when Hannibal suddenly slammed his head hard against the wall, making him drop to the ground, out cold.

“A little help, love?” Hannibal asked, picking him up by the backs of his arms. Will nodded, opening the cellar door as Hannibal carried the man down into the cellar. Freddie got up from where she was staring and scrambled after them.

“Freddie,” Frederick hissed as he followed her down the basement stairs, and nearly ran into her as she froze in horror on the second-to-last step.

Will ran his fingers over a collection of knives spread out on the table before selecting a particularly terrifying specimen and handing it to his husband.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal smiled as the man started to regain consciousness. “I was thinking liver for dinner.”

“Steak and kidney pie, you promised,” Will teased.

“Oh, alright, but only because I love you,” Hannibal teased back, kneeling down beside the man, slitting his throat cleanly before slicing down his abdomen. Will picked up his own knife and raised it to the man's eye.

That was the moment Freddie and Frederick noted that ghosts could not, in fact, pass out or throw up.

It’s funny how you long for the simple pleasures of being alive.

 

 

“Now what?” Frederick groaned, as they sat in the attic, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that a family of cannibals lived below them, ruining their basement floors and sleeping in the master bedroom. Freddie only shrugged, pacing around on the wooden boards.

“We could still try to scare them off,” she offered. Frederick laughed, snickered really, in disbelief. 

“Freddie, darling. They just _murdered_  a man in the basement and are currently _eating_  his _kidneys_  as we speak. Are you sure we both didn’t go straight to hell?”

“Turns out my mother was right,” Freddie sighed, leaning against the bookshelf. “Sex before marriage is a mortal sin.” 

Frederick shot her a look, but then started laughing along with her. “Fine, that was funny. Got any other ideas?”

He got a sheet with holes cut in it thrown in his face. “We’re going old-school with the whole haunting thing.”

 

 

_Oooooooo._

_Oooooooo._

Abigail groaned, pressing her pillow across her face, trying to block out her hearing with her other hand.

“Knock it off,” she yelled out. “I’m a _child,_ you know.” 

Seeing as all she got back were more tortured moaning and groaning, she got out of bed with a huff, grabbing her camera and flinging her bedroom door open. She rolled her eyes at the two figures covered in sheets, and started taking pictures.

“God, can you two at least keep your weirdo sex stuff in the bedroom?” she sighed, then looked at the picture in the camera, freezing up for a moment. The picture was strange, the figures, they didn't have-

“No feet,” she breathed out, looking at the lumps under the sheets. One of them leaned in closer.

“You’re not scared?” it asked.

“I’m not scared of three hundred dollar sheets with holes cut out, Dad's going to be pissed,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Are you  _ghosts_  under there? Are you gross, disgusting zombies under there? All gory and bloody, with pus oozing out?”

Excited, she tried to pull up the sheet, but the things under there just pulled them off themselves. To Abigail’s disappointment, they were just people.

"Honestly, when I was your age," the woman said, exasperated as she tossed the sheet over the side, "I would have freaked the hell out if I saw a pair of ghosts in my house."

"Ghosts, wow," Abigail grinned. "You guys really _are_ dead. Did you go to the funeral? Did you see the light? How does it feel to be dead?"

Frederick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "To answer all of your questions in order: no, no, and it-"

"Sucks," Freddie finished for him. "So avoid dying, you're too nice to go so young."

“Why were you wearing sheets?” Abigail asked, unimpressed.

Freddie sighed throwing it aside. “Practicing.”

Frederick leaned in closer. “You - you can see us.  _Without_  the sheets.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Your fathers can’t. And also, they are-”

“I’m aware of their hobby,” Abigail sighed. “But we all have our differences, right?”

"But they're-"

“Be that as it may, Fred, put that aside for now,” Freddie interrupted. “We need you to do something for us, Abigail.”

“What do you want? Your souls to be at rest?  Our souls to consume so you can continue on your hellish crusade?”

“No, we want you all out of our house.”

Abigail only shook her head and laughed. “You really don’t know my dads, then. This is our permanent house, we’re not budging. But I can try and talk to them for you.”

“Tell them we are evil, demonic spirits who will never rest until they leave this house. It will be torture, _hell_ on earth until they run away from this place and never return.”

Abigail sighed. “You think that will scare them? I’ll give it a shot.”

 

“Daaaad,” Abigail announced, coming into the kitchen as they cleaned the dishes and put the leftovers away. “The couple that used to live here, they're ghosts. They live in the attic and want you out.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Hannibal said absently, wrapping the leftover cheesecake and placing it in the fridge. Will nodded from where he was completing a crossword. Abigail sighed.

“I’m serious, you know.”

“We know. But  tesora , I have a guest coming over tomorrow night, and it’s the new police commissioner. Would you mind scattering the scraps tonight?”

“Fine,” she sighed again, snatching a French macaron off the plate on the counter. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @mrschiltoncat hope that you enjoy, love! I know you've been waiting for the last installment.

"Abigail," Hannibal said, as they all sat down in the family room. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

She rolled her eyes, slouching down in her armchair. "Oh joy. Are we moving again, we just got settled."

"No," Will sighs, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. "But we need to talk to you. Are you acting up because you're upset we moved again?"

Abigail just squinted at her fathers in confusion. "I'm not acting up."

"Abigail. You've been turning off the timers in the kitchen, you scratched the paint off the walls upstairs, left all the faucets running while we were out, and you left the basement a mess," Hannibal stated gently. "What's troubling you?"

"Are you _serious?"_  she half-laughed, standing up and shrugging again. "It's not me, it's the ghosts that live upstairs."

"Yes, we're _aware_ that you've been saying-"

"I don't know what it'll take for you to believe in ghosts," she scoffs, heading up the stairs, "But I'm telling the truth."

Abigail went all the way up the stairs, past her room and over to the narrow staircase heading up to the attic, knocking twice on the door. "It's me," she called out, and the locked door swung open.

"You guys are starting to get _me_ in trouble now," she groaned, flopping on the old couch next to Freddie. "Are you trying to be annoying cats now, is that how you're going to scare them away?"

Frederick just shrugged from where he was flipping through the handbook, leaning against the wall. "It's not like they can see us."

"I guess," Abigail sighed. "Just try and make it seem like it wasn't _me_ that did it, alright?"

"We'll try," Freddie said. "But no promises, I'm getting tired of taking all of his spices out of alphabetical order."

 

"Commissioner Henson, so nice of you to join us for dinner," Hannibal smiles as he comes back into the dining room with the dinner on a tray. "Such a pleasure."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Henson said as he had a sip of the wine that Will had poured for all of the adults. "My wife speaks highly of your therapy, you know. She sends her apologies that she couldn't come with me this evening, it's Ladies' Night at the lodge."

Hannibal nods as he begins plating out the food, and Abigail finally comes downstairs.

"Oh, there you are," Will smiles, handing her a glass of cherry Coke with a wink, knowing that Hannibal hates it, and it's a treat they hide from him. "Abigail, this is Commissioner Henson. Aren't you interested in law enforcement?"

"Yeah," she says with an eyebrow raised. "On  _TV,_ not career-wise, Dad."

"Don't be deterred, _tesora,"_ Hannibal smiles, kissing her cheek as they all sit down to enjoy the meal, before turning back to Henson, "She's on the honor roll, you know, we're very proud."

Abigail just blushed a little as he went on about her academic accomplishments, and smiled a little to herself as the commissioner commented on how delicious the pork dish was. All seemed to be going fine, until she noticed the feathers in the centerpiece start fluttering. There was no air conditioning, no fan, it just fluttered.

 _"Not now,"_ she muttered to herself, spearing a piece of roasted potato.

Now, a dam doesn't burst without a small leak. And in this case, the leak was Will coughing on something caught in his throat.

"Excuse me," he breathed out, trying to cough up whatever was stuck there. Then he covered his mouth with his napkin and found himself pulling a hair out of his mouth. It was much longer than his, and it was _red._

Which was worrying for several reasons.

One: _no one_ at this table had red hair.

Two: Mrs. Fayne hadn't had red hair _either_ and he was _sure_ they had scrubbed the basement of any evidence. Ugh, he thought as he subtly flicked the hair away, wiping his mouth and going back to eating.

Hannibal was in the middle of some story about a former patient when he reached for his wine glass. It moved just a quarter inch away.

He was halfway to convincing himself that he had somehow imagined it, and he reached for it, only for it to scoot away again. Abigail noticed it, and bit down on a laugh. Hannibal shot her a look, but she silently gave him a look back that said 'it's not me!"

Will was coughing on another hair and Hannibal reached for the glass once more, only this time it zipped directly over to him and dumped its contents all over his freshly pressed suit. And just as Will coughs up a third hair and Hannibal's trying to discreetly wipe away the wine stain before it sets, Henson cuts a slice from the port and _blood_ just _oozed_ out. He visibly tenses, "What the-"

The bird skull hidden amongst the hydrangeas on the table suddenly starts screeching with laughter. " _Hi, Jimmy!"_

Henson's face turns white as a sheet as the laughter grows more hysterical. _"Miss me? You ever wonder where I disappeared off to? I'll give you a hint: you are what you eat!"_

There's a loud thud as Henson faints right off his chair. Hannibal and Will get up at the same time, Will wiping his mouth off and reaching for the skull, only for it to bite him. He crushes it in his hand as Hannibal reaches for the clean napkin, only for the open bottle of wine to physically fall over and ruin his suit even more. Both are absolutely furious, and Abigail just sips at her cherry Coke. Before either of them can open their mouths, they all hear the attic door slam. So both men turn to their daughter expectantly. She just shrugged.

"I _told_ you there were ghosts upstairs."

"This is - _inexcusable,"_ Hannibal says in a very low, very calm voice, signaling that he wanted to kill someone. Abigail gets up and removes the steak knife from the tray before he could reach for it.

"Dad, they're already dead," she sighs, "God, am I the only mature one in this house? I'll clean up the table you wake him up. Then we'll all have a meeting. All of us, even our... _housemates."_

So they all work together, Will and Abigail cleaning the table off and removing all traces of blood as Hannibal gently coaxes Henson awake with a cold cloth and soothing words, oh, here's my business card, you're so stressed you passed out at the table, are you alright?

Thankfully, the man was quite gullible, and swallowed all of his words as easily as the dinner he consumed earlier.

As soon as he left, Abigail darted up the stairs and knocked at the attic door. The second the door opened, she grabbed both Freds and pulled them to the top of the steps, presenting them to her fathers. "Dad, Dad, this is Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton, and they're dead and they're living with us."

Both couples glared at each other. Hannibal broke the silence with a cold, "Get out, please."

"Do you think if we had a _choice,_ we'd stay _here?"_ Frederick sneered. "Please."

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know," Freddie sighed. "The handbook doesn't tell us why, and our caseworker told us that only way to get you out is scaring you out."

 _"This_ was your attempt?"

"No, scaring you wouldn't work, so we went for annoying you out instead."

Will rolled his eyes. "So that was your hair? Disgusting."

"Yeah, sorry my _hair_ disturbed you, it really must've distracted from the _human_ flavor," Freddie scoffed. "I'm not sorry. You all can leave if it bothers you so much."

"We are _not_ leaving."

"And we _can't."_

"God, am I the only one here capable of being an adult around here?" Abigail said, exasperated. "All of you, act like you're grown-ups and start tolerating each other."

They went back to glaring at each other and sneering. Abigail sighed, dragging her hand down her face. "This is going to be a long night."

 

"Winston is sniffing me again."

Will couldn't hold back a snort as Frederick looked completely put out as he stared down at the dog sniffing his shoes.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, it is, he usually likes _live_ prey."

"Hilarious," Frederick replied dryly, going back to the crossword book that they'd brought back. It kept him occupied for the time being, as did the new laptop for Freddie, so they were tolerable. Occasionally they threw things around when they felt like being annoying, but they had all agreed that they would at least try to be civil towards each other. So with crosswords and Internet connection (Freddie making a truly terrible pun about being a literal ghost writer), they were pleasant enough.

Even if Hannibal refused to look over the manuscript Freddie was currently writing. He had brushed her off as he had a conversation with a new patient in the kitchen. All was going normally until he noticed his spice cabinet open in the corner of his eye. He shot a quick glare as he saw Freddie snooping through it.

"What was that?" the patient asked, looking worried. Hannibal forced out a smile and waved his hand away.

"Oh, don't worry, Franklin. We only just moved here, and we were unaware the place came with... _rats."_

Freddie instantly frowned and took out the expensive bottle of saffron and threateningly held it above the tile floor, ready to drop it.

"Fine, I'll read it," he hissed, shooting her a quick glare. She beamed and set it back down in its _correct_ place on the shelf. He breathed out a sigh of relief before turning back to a confused Franklin. "I apologize, I was reminding myself of a task to complete later. What were you saying?"

"Was - was your saffron-"

"Still seeing things, it would seem."

 

 

Freddie left the kitchen laughing to herself, and headed up the stairs, knocking twice on Abigail's door.

"It's open," she called from her desk, and Freddie opens the door and sat on the bed.

"Need help with that essay, kid?"

"Sure," Abigail smiles. _"You_ can write it."

"I'll help you write it."

"I'll buy you one of every tabloid I can find so you can keep up with your competitors, and I'll run errands and take pictures around town for the paper if you need them."

"...You've got a deal, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave comments and kudos, I love to respond! And I'm always ready for more of my favorite rare pair!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos galore! It'll be a while for the update, I've got another big work to get out, but please enjoy the beginning in the meantime!


End file.
